


The Fugitive

by chase_acow



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Kiss, M/M, criminal/cop, the fugitive - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-28 22:31:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21399691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chase_acow/pseuds/chase_acow
Summary: “I didn’t kill my partner,” Sam yelled, desperation fueling his voice when all he wanted to do was whimper and mourn. He’d been running for days now and every time he thought he’d found a way back inside his life something had gotten in his way, most recently a particularly aggravating and attractive Federal Marshal.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47
Collections: Male Slash Flash Exchange 2019





	The Fugitive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reeby10](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reeby10/gifts).

> I don't think I was supposed to write some much, but I was having fun and my nano word count rejoiced. : )

“I didn’t kill my partner,” Sam yelled, desperation fueling his voice when all he wanted to do was whimper and mourn. He’d been running for days now and every time he thought he’d found a way back inside his life something had gotten in his way, most recently a particularly aggravating and attractive Federal Marshal.

The man just shrugged, looking increasingly like a drowned rat with every extra drop of water that splashed on his head and rolled down his face. Sam knew he’d be chased when he ran from the crashed prison bus, but his previous experience with law enforcement hadn’t shown him anywhere near the level of competence this one man had exhibited. It might have been a turn on if it hadn’t also meant Sam serving a life sentence in a high security prison for a crime he hadn’t committed.

“I don’t care,” the marshal yelled back, voice echoing inside the tunnel he’d cornered Sam into as he pointed the gun at Sam’s chest. “Put your hands up and get down on your knees.”

There was more at stake than just his freedom. He and Riley had been partners starting an experimental task force dedicated to search and rescue efforts world wide, but without them there everything was at risk. There was opportunity to take what they had built up from the ground with their sweat and tears and turn it into something evil. He couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t let a wave of terror be Riley’s legacy. Him, his team, and their technology were meant to save people, not be loaned out to the highest bidder as a political assassination squad.

“I’ll prove it to you,” Sam promised, somehow this Marshal had become important to him. Their cat and mouse game the only constant in his life. He wanted to make this one man believe him even if no one else did. Jumping backward into the dam’s spillway, he had just a moment of calm to think, _oh shit_ before he hit the water.

#

“I didn’t kill my partner.”

This time the words were soft and entreating, still a promise but somehow much more intimate when they were alone on a rooftop rather than nearly drowning in a concrete tomb. Bucky believed them, if he were honest he’d believed them the first time. No one who’d killed their partner with such cold blooded malice, with such a flimsy alibi would have stopped to help victims of a traffic accident. Not if it meant letting Bucky and his marshals close in on him.

“I know,” Bucky said, though years of training and the paranoia that Zemo was still lurking had his gun still in the air. It wasn’t pointed at Sam, his finger wasn’t on the trigger, but he couldn’t relax and he was afraid Sam wouldn’t believe him. “Climb down. We’ll finish this together. My team already has Zemo’s goons under arrest.”

“But not Zemo,” Sam said, voice stronger. He took a step back, too close to the edge when they were sixty floors up. “I need to finish this.”

It was too dark to really see what Sam was doing, something with his backpack, but Bucky couldn’t ignore the hard thumping of his heart or how tight his chest felt with every breath. He’d spent the last three weeks hot on Sam’s footsteps and he’d gotten to know the man better than any fugitive he’d ever tracked before. Sam was a good man, and more than anything Bucky wanted the chance to know him better to hope maybe Sam felt the same way. 

He put his gun away, holstering it on his belt and leaving him feeling more vulnerable than he ever, but if it made Sam feel safer, it would be worth it. With hands up he approached a little closer, hoping he was making the right choice, that Sam maybe thought he was also a good man too. “Please, come down to me,” Bucky said, holding one hand out, palm up. The last thing he wanted was to make any sudden moves that might push Sam over the edge. “We’ll figure this out together.”

Sam smiled, and it was a beautiful smile on his tired and bruised face. “Do you trust me?” he asked.

“Yes,” Bucky answered immediately, not having to think about it for a moment.

Sam leaned backwards and for a moment seemed to hang in the air before he fell.

Again

#

“Are these really necessary?” Sam asked, rattling the handcuffs around his wrist.

Bucky kept his hand firmly in the small of Sam’s back, standing at an angle while he kept a close watch on anyone walking too close to them while they waited on a motorcade to take them to some peace and quiet. “You’re still a ward of the state , you're in my custody, and you are a known flight risk. Literally at this point. Policy dictates you will be restrained,” Bucky explained, though he couldn’t quite keep his fingers still where they rubbed again Sam’s warm body proving he was still there and alive.

“They’re not even tight,” Sam said, lifting his eyebrow at Bucky. 

It was true, the were loose enough that if Sam wanted to lose some skin he’d be able to get them off easily, but until they had confirmation that Zemo was dead, Bucky didn’t want to put Sam in any situation to make him an easier target. It also meant Bucky had a legitimate reason to stand too close to the other man. “I don’t want you running away from me again,” Bucky said, dipping his head so there was no way his nosy, gossipy partner Natasha could read his lips.

“I really don’t think that’ll be a problem, Marshal,” Sam said, leaning a little until his shoulder rested on Bucky’s chest. 

Sam was having trouble keeping his eyes open, but after the race he’d put on for the last twenty-four hours straight, Bucky couldn’t blame him. Bucky had kinda hoped for more of a moment though, after he’d busted into the conference ballroom to see Sam with his metal wings flared wide. It was his own damn fault he’d been taken hostage by Zemo’s last stooge, John Walker. Sam had to choose between saving Bucky’s life, the man who’d been chasing and making his life miserable and catching the man who’d killed his partner.

It wasn’t like Bucky was expecting wedding bells, but it had to mean _something_.

“C’mon, Steve’s here with our ride,” Bucky said, spotting his best friend through the hotel’s revolving door. The press were lined up three deep outside, and while he had to keep the cuffs on Sam for appearance’s sake among the other law enforcement, he didn’t need to add anymore public shame. He shrugged out of his coat and folded it, then neatly slid it through Sam’s arms to hang over his wrists, hiding the handcuffs. “Let’s go. The quicker we get through these statements, the quicker you’ll be a free man.”

“Not too free, I hope,” Sam muttered, letting Bucky steer him with an arm around his shoulders.

In the car, Bucky was still blinking away the blinding light of all the flash cameras when Sam slid into the middle seat, pressing their bodies together. “Something I can help you with, Wilson?” he asked, glancing up to see both Steve and Natasha watching them through the rearview mirror. This wasn’t awkward at all.

“Maybe,” Sam said, lifting his hands and flopping Bucky’s coat off.

“All right, I’ll take them off,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes and he shifted around to dig for the key in his pocket. 

“I don’t want them off,” Sam said, moving before Bucky could parse the meaning of the sentence in his exhausted state. He slipped his arms over Bucky’s lowered head, sliding his hands along Bucky’s shoulders and the back of his neck. “Driver, raise the partition.”

Trying to figure out why Sam would reach his hands up into Bucky’s hair when he was volunteering to unlock the cuffs, no distractions needed this time, Bucky snorted, “Like we have the budget for th-”

The kiss shut him up fast, and he barely noticed someone turning up the slow love song playing on the radio.


End file.
